


get me out of my mind and get you out of those clothes

by plinys



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 23:26:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9686876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: When it comes down to it the solution to their problems is not what Sara would have expected. In fact, when she first hears it she makes Gideon repeat it twice more. If only to see how red she can get Ray to turn.He tries to coin it, “True love’s kiss.”Of course, it is a slightly drunk Mick that puts it best, “More like true love’s fuck.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheSushiMonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSushiMonster/gifts).



> honestly shruti basically requested "sex is the only way to solve brainwashing" and i can't believe i fucking wrote it wow. writing smut is hard guys.

He’s vicious even now. The darkness still inside of him, needing her to bring it out of him. Reaching for some kind of absolution.

His hands dig into her hips just a bit too hard. There will be bruises there in the morning, she doesn’t mind. She wants this. Wants the reminder that they were here and now and that she was going to be the one to bring him back.

No matter what it took.

She kisses him, open mouth and hungry. Desperate. 

She’s wanted this for too long. 

Sex has always been one of her greatest pleasures, but with Rip before, everything had been slow and careful. Rip had been - was - the sort of person that treated his lovers with care, that smoothes gentle hands over her body, that cupped her breasts with reverence,  that cradled her cheek with his hand a tender touch.

This Rip was different. He still touched her in the same ways, brought his hands along the same curves.

But it was not gentle.

It was not with niceness.

Sara had not realized how much she had needed this until he was here before her. Undressing her with desperation, with fury, telling her all the awful things she had thought about herself. 

“It is fitting that they sent the monster,” he tells her, before moving his mouth to bite at her shoulder. 

These words should not set her aflame as well as they do.

And yet. 

And yet.

She pushes herself upwards desperate for more of this. For more of him. 

She is saving him. He is saving her.

It is mutual in this way.

Her words are just as vicious as his, “If you had succeeded in killing me you would have missed this.” 

“There’s others,” he insists. But casual disinterest doesn’t suit him. Even still partially trapped in the mind that Thawne had trapped him in. The mind that she was slowly freeing him from with each kiss, with each meeting of their bodies. 

(Ray had tried to coin it, “True love’s kiss.”

It had been a more than slightly drunk Mick that put it best, “More like true love’s fuck.”)

“Fuck me,” she says. It’s meant to come off like an order.

A Captain’s order.

To the prison still being held in the brig, in the glass cube where anyone’s eyes could be on them.

She doesn’t care.

She’s here now with Rip before her. 

“Fuck me,” she says again. 

He does not need the invitation.

He has been wanting for her since the second she stepped into his cell, and answered his vicious taunts with her lips against his. Pushing him up against the glass cell walls. 

There was always this sexual tension between them, a need that had not been filled since before Rip was lost to time. 

Too long.

Too fucking long. 

Their kisses are clashes of teeth, blood from a bitten lip. She’s not sure if it’s hers or his, but it doesn’t matter. Not when he’s tugging her pants down off her hips with urgency, reminding her too suddenly of the last time they’d done this. 

(She’d flirted with the Queen of France and Rip had gotten jealous. Possessive almost. A rare thing for him. They’d fall into each other the second they were back on the ship - well, following him berating the team for having messed up the mission - but it hadn’t been too long after that, following him into a room that’s more hers than his by now.

She’d called him  _ Captain  _ before going down on him.)

He calls her Captain now, “Captain Lance,” in a mocking tone.

She shoots back, “Captain Hunter,” in a matching tone. 

He ignores her barb, more intent on taking her apart. 

“Look how easy you bend to my will, perhaps Thawne was wrong, you’d be a good ally for the Legion.”

If she was in her right mind.

If she wasn’t so desperate to have Rip inside of her.

She might have stopped to think of the fact that the  _ Legion of Doom  _ nickname had been picked up even by the other side.

As it was, all she could think about was Rip. 

Above her. 

Inside of her. 

Kissing her like a drowning man finally finding air. 

“Come back to me,” she says, desperate now, because even with his taunts. She can tell that each kiss brings him closer back to her. Closer to himself once more. 

His hands do not grip her hips with the intent to hurt anymore. 

The shake there against her skin, soft, kinder with each passing moment. 

She’s crying. Only noticing it when one of the hands at her hips moves upwards to cradle her cheek as Rip has done too many times before. To brush the wetness gathered there away.

He does not mock her for this.

Sara counts that as a victory.

Her voice cracks, as she asks him, “Come home.” 

This time when he kisses her it is not rough, it is soft and kind, and so incredibly  _ Rip  _ that she loses any and all control she had before this moment.

Now she is the one shaking between them, gasping into his mouth from joy and pleasure. 

Babbling his name “ _ Rip, Rip, Rip, _ ” against his lips.

In reply, he calls her “Sara,” with fondness, with the meaning that her name has lacked on his lips for too long. 

He does not last much longer than her. 

Coming with a gasp against her shoulder. Head resting there as they both shake in the aftermath. 

He pulls out of her but he does not pull away from her. Instead they lay there cradled up against each other for what feels like an eternity. Sara could live in that moment forever, if only the rest of the universe would let her. 

The universe, or more specifically Rip, has other plans. 

When he speaks, it is not in that voice that has haunted her nightmares, but the voice she remembers from her sweetest dreams. 

“Sara,” her name still a beacon on his lips, “Sara, love, why are we in the brig?” 

She can’t help the half laugh that escapes her lips, because of all the things she expected to hear him say, this was not it. 

He’s leaning over her now, propped up on his hands to look down at her.

He looks like himself, and Sara can’t help but smile as she leans up to kiss him. 

This is what she’s missed.

This Rip.

Her Rip.

“Would you believe me if I said that the only way to break your brainwashing was to have hate sex in the shame cube?”

Rip furrows his brows, like he can’t believe her. 

She recognizes that look. 

Like he can’t believe what the team - what  _ his  _ team came up with.

“Well, seeing as it obviously worked, I cannot fault you for that but really?”

“You’re welcome.” 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> come scream at me about this ship on tumblr @ plinys


End file.
